


Throne Games

by windchijmes



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Durincest, Explicit Sexual Content, Incest, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windchijmes/pseuds/windchijmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Warnings: assplay, anal beads, rimming, oral sex, Durincest, possible dub-con)</p><p>As with all young princes, Fili needs to be punished now and then. Part of the seat of his throne is simply a hole just big enough to fit Fiili's buttocks. Sometimes Thorin covers it with a seat cushion that has a phallus attached so Fili feels it every time he moves. Other times, Thorin simply tears the seat of Fili’s pants before he sits with his ass in the hole so his ass is easily accessible to anyone hiding behind the throne to play with. </p><p><b>Pairings covered: </b>Thorin/Fili, Dwalin/Fili, Ori/Fili, Kili/Fili, Bofur/Fili, Others/Fili</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for this prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/5346.html?thread=10836194#t10836194

“What of the punishment for theft of valuables?”

“A night in the dungeons.”

“Even for the theft of gold?”

“Seven nights in the dungeons.”

Now Thorin pauses, raising one brow above the parchment he is reading. “And possibility of exile after trial. Do you not know that?”

Fili bites down on his lip. He’s heard that tone in his Uncle’s voice before. It’s the one he uses when he is planning to deal punishment.

“The ambassadors are visiting tomorrow. You are to attend the session, and be seated on your throne.”

The _throne_.

++++++++++

The throne of the Crown Prince is almost as ornate as that of the King. Made of marbled stone and inlaid with silver and gold, it back-rest rises to twice the height of the average Dwarf, and its arm-rests are carved with images of legendary Dwarven feats of glory.

And the seat deserves its own accolades. Its foundation is solid stone, like the rest of the throne. But the cushion upon it is fine, lush silk brocade, and the phallus-shaped column that rises from it, firm yet malleable, and beautifully _creative_. There are a few of these phallus-cushions. Thorin has quite the imagination when it comes to each design. There is one that is short, but it its lack of length is compensated by its _girth_. Another one is slender and just the right length to be comfortable, yet encircled by smooth, upraised ridges that would press so enticingly against any channel.

This day, a special one is chosen for him, because he is to be _punished_.

When Thorin tested Fili on the ancient Dwarven laws that governed the people of Erebor in the past, he could not answer properly and that was unbecoming of a future King.

“You do understand the reason for this,” Thorin speaks now, very sternly.

Fili mutters something under his breath, then gasps, “ _Ori_!”

“Pay attention,” Thorin snaps at him.

Biting down hard on his lip, Fili nods. “I did not – ” he swallows and tries again. “I do not know the ancient books as well as I should.” When Thorin seems satisfied with his answer, Fili closes his eyes and tries his best not to feel. He knows he _never_ should have chosen Ori to prepare him for punishment.

The gentle scholar is cruel in his kindness. He is so very gentle now as he crouches behind Fili’s upraised arse, well-oiled fingers rubbing and massaging the little furl within until Fili opens up helplessly into the caresses. Through it all, Fili can hardly keep still – or keep himself from getting hard under his coat. Worse, every time Fili makes an unbidden sound, a whimper he is unable to stifle in time, Ori takes it as a sign that he is in pain and makes up for it by _licking_ at him. He is so very enthusiastic about it too, his tongue laving and circling Fili’s hole until Fili can feel himself _wet_ down there, and he’s nearly losing his mind to the slippery pleasure.

“You’re ready, Fili,” Ori says shyly as he stands up, hands clasped and gaze so earnest, as if he had not been tonguing and probing Fili all over.

“All…all right, thank you. Very helpful,” Fili grits out, not making a lot of sense. It is all he can do to push himself off the arms of the throne, and turn around, trying not to jostle his stiffening arousal, then inching backwards until his arse hovers above the phallus pointing up from the cushion.

“Get to it,” Thorin orders impatiently.

Ori’s hands are around his waist at once, helping to support his weight as Fili gingerly lowers himself. At the first nudge of the blunt tip against his hole, he reflexively clenches. Then, he remembers his training, and he takes deep breaths, calming himself, and eases into the penetration. It is still hard-going though, and it takes several abortive tries, before the tip pops into his channel. He shuts his eyes and groans, trembling from the feeling of being stretched wide and taut.

Legs beginning to shake already, Fili lets his weight do the work, slowly sitting down, letting his channel stretch to accommodate the whole length of the phallus. Sweat begins to bead at his temples, sliding down his face in a chilly trickle. Though the phallus is thinner than what Fili had trained with, it is so very _long_ , and it doesn’t seem to end even as Fili feels his own arse swallowing it up.

It is not until he is fully seated and he is sweating in earnest that Fili understands how this is a punishment. The tip of the phallus is wedged right against his prostate. Even taking a breath makes it shift deep inside him, and send jolts thrumming all over his body. The Court session later would last for a while yet, and he is getting aroused already.

“Are you all right, Fili?” Ori asks him softly, darting furtive glances at Thorin to ensure their King is not about to chastise them for speaking. But the King is deep in his perusal of a document, and he does not look up.

“What do you think, Ori?” Fili retorts, and regrets it. No one ever wants to be mean to Ori, who is gentle as a rabbit. But as of this moment, he has a phallus stuck deep inside him and he cannot move without squirming, and he doesn’t think he can last the whole session without _coming_.

“I think you’re so very lovely like this,”Ori replies, cheeks pink.

Fili’s eyes go wide, but he is groaning again in the next heartbeat as he feels another spark of pleasure in his loins.

“Let me help,” Ori says softly and lowers himself to his knees before Fili.

Fili doesn’t know what to say, and he cannot really form any words at any rate, as Ori carefully spreads his thighs open and pushes his face within. The next thing he feels is Ori’s tongue laving eagerly around his tender skin stretched taut where it meets the phallus. The sensation is a shock to his sensitised skin, and Fili jerks in response, shifting the phallus in his arse. He moans quietly and ceaselessly, fingers scrabbling at that brown head buried in his crotch.

“Please Ori, you mustn’t…or I would not last the session…please…” Fili begs, tugging at Ori’s hair, ending with a choked whimper as his shaft hardens yet a little more.

The scholar Dwarf obeys, pulling away, but not before feathering a few sweet kisses over Fili’s balls and squeezing yet another groan from the Prince. “Good luck, Fili,” he says, raising his head, pressing his lips upon Fili’s hand, taking his leave from Thorin and then scurrying out the Court.

Now Fili is left on his throne, his cock half-hard between his legs, a phallus wriggling inside his arse, and his Uncle seated just paces away. Cursing himself for getting into trouble in the first place, and trying his best to make small, careful movements Fili begins checking his attire, buttoning his coat securely around himself to cover the state of his body, and calming his breathing through sheer force of will.

“Are you ready?” Thorin looks up now, impassive in expression, as though he is inquiring about the weather.

“Yes,” Fili replies, digging his hands onto the armrests. This is going to be a very long session.

Then the Court session begins, and so does Fili’s punishment.

++++++++++

In general, Dwalin doesn’t enjoy Court sessions. Too long. Too much talking. Too little movement. Too _everything_. But he makes sure he attends the session today because it is a little different from the usual.

To begin with, the Crown Prince makes a rare appearance. And continuing this pattern of rarity, he is seated on his throne with a most obedient _stillness_ , when normally he would have been questioning the ambassadors and staring around him with cocky alertness. Not today.

“…do you agree, Fili?”

Startled, Fili looks up at the query posed by his Uncle. Slowly, he nods, and seems to take a few breaths before answering, “Yes, I do” in a voice that is clear, yet somewhat strained around the edges.

Dwalin lets his eyes rest on the Prince’s booted feet, and slowly, his gaze rises up those clothed legs to the long coat clasped so tightly around the body within. He knows what goes on under that coat. The Prince would be wearing his special breeches – those that leave his pretty arse deliciously bared to whatever punishment he would receive. And punished he is.

It takes some effort for Dwalin to move his gaze up to Prince’s face. Oh, the poor, tortured lad. Outwardly, Fili is admirably composed, especially given his current predicament, but Dwalin can see the unnatural blush at his cheeks, how his nails are clawing into the throne armrests, and the way he shudders when he thinks no one is looking. But Dwalin _is_ , though, and he is damned near staring at the Prince.

Fili’s gaze shifts and meets Dwalin’s intense scrutiny. Immediately, the blush deepens on Fili’s face and he looks away so bashfully, it is all Dwalin can do not to march over and rip the coat off to complete Fili’s punishment himself. But no matter. Looking at the way Fili’s control is eroding so swiftly, by the time the session is over, Fili would be begging for his attention.

So meanwhile, Dwalin entertains himself by hearing, and not really listening, the ambassadors suggest for more trades, while he imagines what he can do to aid the Prince’s punishment later on. Mercifully, for everyone in the Court, the session gradually draws to an end. He can see the relief dawning on Fili’s face. But even then, time drags on as each ambassador takes his leave with far more elaborate parting greetings than is truly necessary, before ambling out of the Court.

The moment the Court is finally empty, Fili turns to Thorin and pleads, “I know I’m wrong, Uncle. May I – May I be released now?”

Thorin certainly has a streak of sadism in him. He stares at Fili and takes his time considering his sister-son’s apology, watching him wriggle uncomfortably on his throne, before he nods. “You will be released – _here_.”

Dwalin is already striding up the steps to the throne, and when Fili groans in need and calls to him, he is right there at the throne and swiftly unclasps the coat from the lad’s body. It swings open without resistance, and Dwalin lets his gaze feast on what he finds beneath. This is not a sight one beholds every day.

The Prince’s breeches are entirely devoid of crotch and bottom, clinging onto Fili’s legs only from suspenders that buckle onto the leather belt around his waist. He wears no underpants, leaving him quite naked at the loins. Between his shaking thighs, Dwalin can see the bottom rim of the phallus and imagines the rest of it undulating up into Fili’s passage. At the apex of Fili’s thighs, his neglected cock is so hard it looks ready to shoot at the slightest touch. All in all, it is such an apt punishment for a misbehaving Prince, and offers such a beautifully indecent picture of him.

“Would you – ” Fili demands in an unsteady voice, lips trembling at being so exposed before Dwalin’s hungered gaze. “Would you do something, Dwalin?” he snaps, sounding angry and pitiful at the same time.

Laughing, Dwalin kisses the lad on his fluttering belly, and urges him to move. Fili obeys with a sharp whimper, lifting his hips and plunging down again. His legs hardly cooperate at first, but then he finds a rhythm, and he is soon crying out as he bucks up and down. Encouraging him, Dwalin bends his head and sucks the Prince’s cock deep into his mouth, his throat constricting around the pulsing flesh with each thrust Fili makes. In the throes of his pleasure, even a Crown Prince uses his hips like a little tavern wench, fucking himself up into Dwalin’s mouth, then down again on the phallus without increasing intensity. The lad’s hands find their way to his head, holding on helplessly as he veers closer and closer to completion.

Beside them, Thorin watches like a silent statue, his eyes riveted intensely on every undulation of Fili’s body, and his ears picking up every sound from Fili’s open, panting mouth.

As with young Dwarves, it takes short work to come. Not before long, Fili moans shamelessly in his throat, and thick fluid jets from his cockhead into Dwalin’s welcoming throat. Dwalin takes what he can, before he pulls off and just squeezes that still-throbbing shaft to empty the last of its release. He takes a certain enjoyment watching the lad coat his own belly with his seed, he has to admit. A sort of lewd relish at seeing the good Prince so debauched.

Drained and sated, Fili lets himself be lifted up by Dwalin’s arms, mewling a little as the phallus slowly slides out from his stretched hole, and he is aided to his feet on unsteady legs. The cool air is chilly against his bared bottom, and he hisses under his breath, but dares not make another move as Thorin stares sternly at him.

“You do realise your punishment is not over,” Thorin warns him quietly.

Fili’s mouth twitches like he wants to frown, but daren’t. He understands his position and what it entails. He understands what it means to be Crown Prince. But the ceaseless weight upon his shoulders is so insufferable sometimes. He yearns to take all the rules and regulations set upon him and snapping them – one by one.

As if sensing the defiance in his thoughts, Thorin’s glare deepens. “ _Well_?”

At length, Fili nods and says with just a shade of petulance in his tone. “I realise that.”

“The next time you get into trouble, your Elders will assist me in taking you in hand, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Fili answers and immediately thinks of the next rule he can break – without _anyone_ finding out.

* * *

  


	2. Chapter 2

“What do you think?”

Fili assesses the Dwarf strutting about the combat ring. He is not so very tall, but he is wide in girth and stout in chest, and he carries an enormous mattock as his weapon of choice. The bout would not end so very quickly. “Fifty paces.”

Kili just scoffs under his breath. “You get thirty paces, brother.”

Hovering somewhere behind the two brothers, Ori’s voice pipes up. “Are – are you sure this is wise?” He sounds worried, rightly so.

But Ori’s concerns come too late, and fall upon deaf ears. Kili has already begun his count. He takes two steps around the ring, purposefully slow, his lips curling up into a mischievous grin. Not wasting any more time, Fili enters the ring and challenges the opponent to a bout. The challenge is swiftly taken up; no Dwarf would forgo the opportunity to pit his prowess against one from the Durin line. They take their positions and ready their training weapons.

Kili continues counting and circling the ring.

In the centre, Fili and the big Dwarf have begun their match. They are evenly-skilled at first; Fili is the quicker and nimbler of the two, but his opponent’s mass absorbs the strikes from Fili, and his own retaliating blows are slow, but heavy in strength. Their booted feet dredge across the grounds, stirring up dust and earth. This is not something he can admit so readily, but Fili deeply enjoys such challenge bouts. Unlike Kili, who has a special affinity for the bow, Fili enjoys all bladed weapons, and he takes a certain pleasure in seeking out opponents to test himself against.

Fili manages a quick glance at Kili.

The brother is nearly the whole way around the ring already.

Concentrating harder, Fili neatly sidesteps his opponent’s charging attack, and parries the mattock with his twin falchions. The attack thwarted, Fili ends with one blade at the Dwarf’s chest, right above his heart, and the other at his guts. Regaining his breath, Fili grins as he is declared the winner. Then, he turns his head and the smile slips off his lips just as quickly.

Ori’s expression is caught somewhere between cheering for Fili, and looking mortified at the two Dwarves next to him.

Kili has already completed his thirty paces before Fili conquered his opponent, and looks terribly smug.

More significantly, _Mister Balin_ is standing by the combat ring with a most disapproving frown on his sagely brows.

The severity of the situation hits Fili all at once. He is, to sum it up concisely, in a world of trouble.

++++++++++

Thorin’s expression is dark as night as he studies Fili. “You did _what_?”

“It was a challenge bout,” Fili explains, somewhat thankful that his voice is calm and his tone even.

“You were fighting in _public_?” Thorin continues, the glare deepening between his brows.

“I – ” Fili looks as if he would argue, but re-considers it and steels his jaw. “Yes.”

“And you treat the whole thing as if it is no more than a game.” There is disappointment and even sharper anger in Thorin’s voice now. “Are Kili and Ori a part of this?”

Fili does not hesitate. “No.”

The King looks at him for several prolonged moments, before deigning to speak. “Do you know why you’re in the wrong?”

“I created public chaos,” Fili responds compliantly. He _does_ understand why he is in the wrong, but that does not mean he cannot be secretly defiant about it. “I caused danger to myself, Kili and Ori for drawing attention so openly amongst outsiders.”

“How should you be punished for it?”

“The – ” now Fili licks his lips, his throat beginning to go dry. He thinks of his impending punishment, and his heart beats a little more erratically. Such is the dilemma of the situation. He dreads punishment, yet he is drawn to the torturous _pleasure_ of it. Is he self-destructive, or just mad, he does not know. “The throne,” he finishes, and the blood seems to grow heated in his own veins. He feels warm inside already.

As if echoing the conflicting desires in Fili, Thorin’s gaze grows hooded beneath his brows. “Get before your throne and face it. I will see to your preparation myself.” There is ire in his tone still, but it is laced with something darker, like sweet, heady mead.

There is no one else in the throne chamber now, except he and his Uncle. The silence seems to thicken in the air, as with the beating of Fili’s heart as he stands in front of his own throne. Like a wretched wench, his loins begin to throb with the first spikes of desire. He is not wearing the punishment-breeches, and the cushion upon the seat has no attached phallus. What would Thorin do?

Behind him, Thorin moves up until he is right behind Fili. He is a towering, heavy presence, like a solid shadow. “Bend over.” The warmth from his breath prickles Fili’s neck.

Swallowing dryly, Fili leans over until his hands are braced upon the cushion. He can feel his own breath coming in shallow, excited puffs in the air. He is apprehensive and anticipatory at the same time, just as he dreads, yet enjoys his own punishment from his Uncle’s hands. Perhaps he is entirely debauched in his soul.

When Thorin’s hands cup his clothed rump, Fili nearly jumps. But he holds himself as still as possible, trying not to sigh as that fleeting touch on his bottom deepens into a strong, firm caress. It is a strange mix of affection and lust Fili feels in his Uncle’s hands as they squeeze and knead at his buttocks –

And some anger too, when they tighten on the cloth and with a rough, tearing jerk, _rips off_ the bottom part of Fili’s breeches. Fili gasps now, unable to stifle it in time, feeling chilly air washing across his naked skin. And bent over like this, he is even more vulnerable to his Uncle’s gaze.

“This – ” Thorin’s finger slides into the cleft of his buttocks and _just_ rests against that sensitive, secret part hidden inside. “Little, misbehaving thing,” he finishes in a roughened timbre, not entirely clear if he is addressing Fili, or that quivering hole his finger is caressing.

His _entrance_. Fili feel his face grow hot. It is terribly shameful to be bared as such before his Uncle, yet he is so aroused by it. The bulge at the front of his breeches begins to rise, rubbing up against the cloth so very uncomfortably.

“It shall bear the brunt of your indiscretions, Fili,” Thorin continues, his words ending in a growl. With that, he takes Fili by the waist and turns him around forcefully. Fili whips around like a rag doll, eyes widening in shock as he is enveloped by strong arms. Thorin lowers his head, and their lips are merely a hair’s breadth apart. Hardly remembering to breathe, Fili stares up at his Uncle, seeing that bearded, handsome face so close to his own and feeling light-headed from it. His glance flickers to his Uncle’s mouth, then rises guiltily to meet that knowing gaze. A sudden, fierce want sparks in Fili’s guts, but he does not know yet –

 _What_ is it he so desires?

“Ready yourself,” Thorin warns him quietly, before he lowers Fili to the throne.

The cushion is seized and removed, and when Fili’s bared buttocks reach the chilly stone of the throne-seat, he understands suddenly his punishment. Hidden by the cushion that covers its surface, a hole has been cut into the seat itself. It is just small enough to fit Fili’s buttocks comfortably, and it is _just big enough_ – Fili finds he still has the decency to blush at the realisation – to leave his arsehole exposed to the air below, and to whoever is hidden behind the enormous back-rest.

Thorin’s hand takes his chin and lifts his face up. One thumb tracks across the redness at Fili’s cheek, and Thorin is half-snarling, half-smiling as he tells him, “You will sit here for the whole Court session, under Balin’s watch. And you may not move your hands – ” As he speaks, he takes Fili’s wrists and presses them to the arm-rests. “Until I return to release you, do you hear me?”

Fili nods, and tries to speak steadily but his voice trembles. “I understand.” He takes deep breaths, strangling the noises in his throat as Thorin’s hands pull the coat securely around his body to hide the state of his tented breeches, but not before brushing against that bulge and sending frissons of pleasure crackling into Fili’s loins.

Once he is in a presentable state, Thorin straightens himself, and turns to leave the Court, leaving a half-hard Fili on his throne to meet the people of Ered Luin who want their troubles heard before the Court.

++++++++++

The sweat rises at Fili’s temple, before sliding in a slow, trickle down to his hair and his ear. The air is cool in the Court, but he feels hot. And now he fixes a bright smile upon his lips as he listens to the farmer Dwarf ramble on about his missing boars. Beside Fili, Mister Balin stands with his hands sternly clasped, and his eyes flickering warningly to Fili, every time his attention drifts.

It happens so very often too, depending on what that finger is doing _inside of Fili_.

Though it is not long, it is very thick and heavily-jointed, even more so than Dwalin’s. When it first squeezed into Fili, he had nearly gasped out loud. But he had bitten the sound back, as the oil-slickened digit finally wedges fully into his hole. Fili held his control like that, by its very edges, nearly gnawing his lip raw as that finger pulled out and shoved back inside him. This may be Gloin, Fili thinks, and the tiniest moan escapes his lips. There is no teasing, no playing, just a steady, determined ploughing of his finger to spread Fili wider for more punishment later. But its thrusts are so heavy, even for a mere finger, Fili finds himself unconsciously shifting his hips to its rhythm.

“What can be done, Your Grace?”

Freezing on his throne, Fili steadies himself and takes a deep breath. The farmer is staring demandingly at him, waiting for a satisfactory answer.

“A magistrate presides over your town,” Fili replies, barely able to catch a whimper in time as the finger disappears, leaving his arsehole bereft of contact. “This will be brought to his attention, and I will ensure he spares no effort in locating your swine.”

The farmer is not fully satisfied and grumbles under his breath, but he takes his leave. A young lass takes his place and stands in the presence of the Crown Prince. She opens her mouth to speak –

And two slickened fingers crawl up into Fili’s passage.

He jerks in his seat, drawing a hiss from Mister Balin, and makes himself stay very still as those fingers begin probing inside him. Again, he has not felt these before. They are large and long, but strangely smooth, as though they do not deal so often with weapons, and handle more delicate tasks. Those clever fingers work all around Fili’s hole, and he can _feel_ the walls of his own channel squirming around them. They are so very thorough, twisting and widening to rub the oil into every inch of his tight chute. Fili’s eyes are starting to water from the strain of _not making a sound_ and keeping entirely still. He does not know who this is – he suspects it is Dori or Nori or even Bofur – but the owner takes obvious pleasure in tormenting him, digging up harder when Fili tries to answer the maiden’s queries, and wriggling inside him when he pauses. They are careful too, to avoid touching that one spot that would break Fili’s resolve, intentionally dragging out his torture.

The maiden speaks of her abode being burgled and Fili nods as he listens, while sweat trickles more profusely down his neck. His insides are heated and alive with sensation, but he can scarcely move without drawing attention to himself, or giving the state of his body away. He is fucking _hard_ under his coat.

But he does his best, reassuring her that the perpetrator will soon be apprehended.

“Are you all right, Your Grace?” she asks before she turns to leave. Her eyes are widened in earnest innocence.

Fili cannot answer for a moment. The fingers have left his arse, and now his member is pushing up insistently into his breeches. Swallowing a few times, he finally smiles and hopes it looks steadier than it feels. “I am. Thank you for your concern,” he says and tries not to blush from the sheer contrast of her innocent gaze and the way his loins are enflamed just paces away from her person.

The lass leaves the Court, leaving it mercifully empty for the time being. Beside him, Mister Balin steps forth now with a long-suffering sigh.

“I tried, Mister Balin,” Fili interjects before the older Dwarf may say a word. And he really did, as best as he can with fingers playing in his hole, and his hard cock trapped in his pants.

“I know, Fili,” Balin shakes his head wryly, crossing his hands before him in a gesture that looks so sagely. “But you should not have landed yourself this punishment in the first place, really. What else did the King command?”

Fili has to will himself to sound composed when he replies, “He said I cannot move my hands until he returns. But Mister Balin,” there is a whine creeping into his tone that he is not quite able to suppress. “Wouldn’t you help relieve – ” he finds he cannot continue without turning red as a beetroot. The very idea of Mister Balin handling him _in that way_ is more embarrassing than he can bear.

“I would never go against the King’s wishes,” the elderly Dwarf looks appalled. Then, strangely, he raises his head and sighs loudly into the quiet Court. “But I cannot guarantee what others may do. Thorin will be arriving in Court soon, Fili. I suggest you take the time to calm yourself down.”

Calm himself down.

He is rock-hard in his breeches and he can hardly move without sending even more sensation into his erect shaft. How is he to calm himself down? But Mister Balin is already pottering out of the Court, leaving him alone and now fully-hard on the throne.

Moaning softly under his breath, Fili stares down at himself. The coat is large and heavy and shields him from the public’s eye. But now, its bottom part is subtly tented. Beneath it, Fili’s loins and arse are in a _state_. His rump shifts atop the hole, and Fili shivers as he feels cool air against his entrance. Without fingers or phallus, he would not get enough friction in there to send him over the edge. And with Thorin’s orders to leave his hands on the arm-rests, he cannot touch himself to completion.

_But he needs to come._

Thorin would surely inspect him later for any signs of obedience, but if – if he is so very careful not to leave any remnants on his body? Inhaling a long, shaky breath, Fili lifts one hand up from the arm-rest.

“I saw you move!” A voice rings sharply through the air.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is almost finished. I dunno why I'm doing this fill in bits, though it's totally PWP! ^^;; There's so much filth involved I need to think about it, I suppose!


	3. Chapter 3

“I saw you move!” A voice rings sharply through the air.

Jumping, Fili slams his hand back down, and looks up wildly. His heart pounds in his ears.

Two familiar figures detach themselves from the heavy drapes that adorn the borders of the Court, and approach him with light, scampering steps. As they come nearer, Fili has enough coherence to roll his eyes.

“Are you not happy to see us, brother?” Kili grins as he trots up the steps and perches himself next to Fili. Ori follows close behind and hovers bashfully near them without intruding.

“Not particularly,” Fili retorts. It was Kili’s bright idea of challenging the fighter that landed him in such a state, mind.

As if guessing his thoughts, Kili laughs and drops his head to kiss Fili’s cheek. “It was a bit of fun, brother. I had no idea this would happen.” His kisses begin to move down Fili’s neck, where they linger and deepen. “But I know you didn’t prattle on us, Fili. How shall I show my gratitude, Your Grace?”

 _Your Grace_. Kili only ever calls him that when he is playing _that_ game with Fili – the one where all boundaries are eschewed and they take forbidden pleasures from each other. It is sick, but so, _so_ thrilling.

“Mister Balin may come back,” Fili protests, very weakly so. His control is dissipating even as he speaks.

“Did you not hear him?” Kili just scoffs. “He said he wouldn’t stop us from draining you dry before Uncle returns. He’s given us permission.”

On a better day Fili would reject what Kili is suggesting, and maybe even admonish him for his atrocious choice of speech. But _now_ , Fili is near losing all proper thought in his mind. “Then, release me, Kili. Without any – ” he swallows, throat scraping dryly, realising what he is asking of his brother. “Without any traces. Or else, Uncle…he…” he dares not continue.

“Of course…although…” Kili laughs again, his voice much lower and rougher now. “Uncle may spank you in Court if you go against his wishes, and I would _dearly_ love to see that.”

Fili hisses something very rude and indignant to him, but Kili just brushes it off and kisses his cheek again. Then, he stands up and motions Ori over. Fili has one moment to hear them discussing their next step before they turn to him.

The young Dwarves work quickly. Ori fetches the discarded cushion, and Kili helps to prop Fili up for Ori to slide the cushion under his buttocks. In similar efficient fashion, Fili’s coat is worked open, and Ori loosens his breeches and gently tugs them down to his boots. Through it all, Fili does what he can to preserve the last bit of his dignity. They are of similar age, but Fili is still the highest ranked amongst them, and he _wants_ to be proper in front of them.

It is difficult to keep that in mind sitting half-naked on the throne, with his hips jacked up by the cushion and his cock lying on his belly like a swollen, heavy mast. It is not amusing either, the way Kili and Ori stare down at him with hunger in their gazes, though Ori has some decency to look away. Not so Kili, who enjoys having Fili at his mercy and isn’t reserved about demonstrating it.

“Oh look,” Kili purrs, tracing one finger up Fili’s shaft, then poking it to make it sway heavily. “How desperate it is.”

Fili just bites down hard on his lip, needing all his willpower not to make any unbecoming sound before them, not even when Kili does it again a few more times, using his finger to toy maddeningly with his erect member. Fluid begins to seep from the tip of Fili’s cock and the little _bastard_ chortles.

Before Fili decides to break all rules and slap his brother on his grinning face, Ori interjects softly, “I’ll make you feel better, Fili. And Kili, you shouldn’t tease him so.” Then, in complete contrast to the _properness_ of his words, Ori urges his thighs up slowly, until Fili’s lower body is tilted back, and his bottom is exposed. Without hesitation, he reaches forward and pulls the swells of Fili’s buttocks apart to uncover that little furl inside.

“Ori,” Fili grates out. There is something so _indecent_ about the gentle scholar examining his _arsehole_.

“Oh, he likes it, Fili,” Kili hushes him, a devious little sparkle in his eyes. Reaching down, he takes Fili’s legs and hauls them up even higher to lean on either arm-rest, baring him fully to Ori. Yelping, Fili tries to lower his legs, but Ori places his hands on his thighs to keep them there.

“I do like it. Let me, Fili?” Ori confesses with a little smile that looks both shy and _sly_ at the same time, before he ducks his head and presses a wet kiss right on Fili’s _entrance_. Then another, and another.

Inhaling sharply, Fili bucks up, and groans in the next breath when Kili grasps his shaft in a firm grip. Clawing welts into the arm rests, Fili writhes as his body is besieged by pleasure from all sides, and he just cannot decide what to feel _first_. Ori is lapping diligently and tenderly at his hole, while Kili strokes his cock with hard, firm strokes. Before he can stop himself this time, Fili _mewls_.

As if on cue, Kili stop all motions and just holds his shaft with one thumb pressed against his cockhead. Moaning openly now, all thoughts of propriety tossed from his mind, Fili is rewarded with a little nip on his ear, and Kili’s voice grinning, “Look at Ori.”

Despite himself, Fili looks down with glazed eyes. Between his splayed thighs, he can just see the top half of Ori’s brown head, and his wide, earnest eyes. It is an obscene image, and it grows even more so as Ori pushes his face even deeper, and Fili feels a soft tongue probing _into_ him.

Oh Mahal…Fili cannot quite believe what Ori is doing, but his body does. Already thoroughly widened and stretched by those punishing fingers, his passage opens up eagerly for the wet, squirming slide of tongue. His head dropping back, Fili whines as Ori works his tongue deeper and deeper into his hole.

“You make the loveliest sounds, Fili…” Kili lowers his head and cover his brother’s mouth with his own, drinking in his moans. His thumb begins to rub around Fili’s cockhead, teasing the sensitive opening, and spreading wetness around the fleshy tip.

The three figures move to a sensuous, slow rhythm, with Fili played like an instrument between them. His head bobbing back and forth, Ori’s tongue withdraws, before slithering inside Fili’s channel again at a steadily increasing pace. Above him, Fili’s hips jerk abortively and most shamelessly, trying his best to push down into Ori’s tongue-fucking, while thrusting up into Kili’s rough pumps of his cock. His mouth is still captured by Kili, who helps to muffle the ceaseless streams of whimpers he cannot hold back, but steals all his breath, making his chest hurt.

At last, Fili feels the tension drawing taut in his entire body, and he knows it is near. He wrenches away from Kili with a sob in his breath. One of his hands grasps Kili’s shirt, and the other gropes blindly at Ori’s head. “I – I’m going – ”

Grinning, Kili quickly bends down and clamps his mouth around the leaking cockhead in his hand. And he is just in time too, for Fili is crying out, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, and he _spurts_. He has been pent up for so long, his climax seizes him almost blindingly, his cock spewing into Kili’s softly-suckling mouth. Below, Ori’s tongue wriggles out from him now, only to mouth at his testicles, as if encouraging them to empty themselves. Between them, Fili can only hang on, sputtering incoherent noises until his release slows and he opens his eyes, dazedly, blearily.

All of them look utterly, completely _wrecked_. Kili’s lips glisten with _his_ fluids, which the younger Dwarf just wipes off with one hand. Fili himself is still embarrassingly nude down there, but he cannot cover himself yet, for Ori is licking up the last remnants of his release. Over and over, that pink tongue laves across Fili’s softened member, cleaning up the bits where Kili’s mouth could not catch. Blushing furiously, Fili tries to keep still, making a little squeak in his throat when Ori kisses the head of his cock affectionately before standing up. 

The terrible duo dress him now, pulling his breeches back on, removing the cushion and helping him to sit himself back on the hole again. Fili thinks perhaps he should aid them somehow in relieving them, for both of them now sport prominent bulges in their breeches.

“Another time, brother,” Kili laughs, kissing Fili on the forehead, and hooking one arm around Ori’s. “We have no wish to be caught here by Uncle. Besides,” he tilts his head and winks mischievously. “We will not leave you lonely for long. Come now, Ori,” he tugs at the bookish Dwarf and begins to leave.

Ori waves at Fili, one hand raking awkwardly through his braids, while being towed along by Kili as they disappear into the wings.

Left by himself again, Fili is actually relieved this time. His manhood is sated and now lies quiet in his breeches, and he no longer feels like he would burst any time. Now, he just has to wait for Thorin’s return, and perhaps listen to another scolding, and he would be released.

It is not such a terrible punishment after all. Grinning widely, Fili leans back into his seat and waits.

++++++++++

He is not grinning anymore.

Pursing his lips, Bofur glances down at himself. There is a little tent in his pants, which is unfunny, considering he still has a task to fulfil before he may _do something_ about it. Pain in the arses sometimes, these royal Durin heirs. The Crown Prince gets himself into trouble – for the umpteenth time – and the King wants to punish him. Now, that is all fine and dandy, but then the King decides that the _toymaker_ should help out.

Very well, then. Except the King neglects to mention that the Crown Prince turns into a wanton little wench when he gets on his throne. Nor did he warn that the Crown Prince would be visited by his partners in crime, who obviously had no qualms easing his _burdens_ in the most salacious manner ever.

Then all three young Dwarves had to spend long, prolonged, _overly-long_ moments making these slurping, slopping, squishing, mewling noises, while he was forced to sit behind the throne and listen to them. Naturally, now his penis is suffering the consequences.

Right this moment, the satisfied Crown Prince is back on his throne with his arse in the hole, and he is chuckling softly to himself.

The toymaker is not amused. So, he holds up his toy now and studies it with the air of an expert. This was originally designed as a babe’s rattle, with a nice handle for the child’s little fist, and the rattle extending upwards like a merry cone. But one evening, the King visited and commissioned a special toy for his golden sister-son, who needed more punishment than expected. Thus, Bofur took his rattle-toy and tweaked it. And that was how this bead-phallus was born.

The handle still remains, but it is smaller now, just enough to comfortably fit one Dwarven finger. Rising from it is the phallus, but it is unlike any of those on the cushions. It is made of seven smooth beads, starting with a large sphere on the bottom, gradually decreasing in size with the next, and the next, until the crown, which is really just a small, innocent-looking rounded tip. What isn’t so innocent, is what this tip is designed to _do_.

Leaning against the back-rest of the throne, Bofur surveys the design of its seat. From the back, there is a hollow, large enough for one arm and the work it needs to do. Bofur slickens his fingers now, just to prepare the way a little for his toy later. Carefully, he works his arm into the hollow, and gropes upwards.

Nothing at first.

Then, his fingers find soft skin. Firm swells.

Fili’s voice gasps out loud into the empty Court air. “Who’s there?”

Well, the little Prince would have to make a good guess. Bofur probes a little more, and there’s that little, wrinkly muscle right in the centre. Even just brushing against it, Bofur can feel how tender and hot the flesh is. He grazes his fingers over it, and the hole _twitches_ at his touch, like it’s trying to draw him in. _Ah_. Bofur feels his shaft stir a little in his pants. Now he sees why some of the others enjoy punishing the Crown Prince so much. The lad has quite the seductive arse.

Bofur indulges him a little, sliding his fingers up into that moist cavern, and wrenching a long groan from Fili. The young Dwarf is a noisy one; Bofur can only imagine his torment at having to silence himself during the Court session. The lad is also very ready for more. His passage has been loosened and slickened by plenty a finger, and Bofur suspects, some tongue as well.

Bofur pulls his arm out, noting how Fili moans at the loss of touch inside him, then returns to the boy’s arse with the slickened toy in his hand now.

At the first touch of the beaded tip against his entrance, Fili jerks at that unfamiliar feel. Bofur is not so cruel. He coaxes the lad slowly and carefully, circling that sensitive little furl with the tip until the first and smallest bead is gradually swallowed up.

“Hnnnn….” Fili groans – such an enticing, _pretty_ sound. And he doesn’t stop groaning, as Bofur gently slides the toy upwards, and the second bead wedges into his passage. “What is that?” Fili pants, and to answer him, Bofur flexes his wrist a little, and the beads wriggle inside the boy’s arse.

Fili jerks up now; Bofur can hear the lad’s hips shifting. Oh, but there is more yet to go. In the same slow, careful fashion, he works in the third, fourth and _fifth_ beads. The lad is breathing very heavily now, interrupted now and then by a helpless little moan. Though Bofur has taken care to coat them with as much lubrication as he could, the last two beads are the biggest and would split the boy wide open, and Bofur wonders now if he can go any further without hurting the boy. So, he does not proceed, and just rocks the beads back and forth to let them rub tantalisingly against the walls of Fili’s channel.

Then, Fili answers the unspoken query. “ _More_ …” he says in a breathless, small, and pleading voice. “More, _Bofur_ , please.”

Oh, clever lad. Bofur chuckles despite himself, not even sure if this is a punishment anymore if the debauched little prince revels in his own torment. To reward him, Bofur pushes the phallus up so very slowly, Fili moaning through it all, until the sixth bead _pops_ inside. He follows it with the final bead, slowing down even more as it strains upwards.

When the last bead finally sinks into the boy, Fili cries out plaintively. His hips are writhing now, but with every move, it only draws more desperate noises from him. Bofur must admit he is quite pleased with himself. He had designed the phallus such that the beads would twist and roll with even the slightest movement. The way Fili is bucking up now, he is only torturing himself with more squirming pleasure.

His task is done. Jauntily, Bofur traces his fingers around the handle, which now sticks nicely just outside the boy’s arse, taking care to caress the tender flesh stretched taut around it. Perhaps, he would get to wreck more punishment on this sweet hole another time. Now, however, he would relinquish the responsibility to his King.

Grinning gleefully, the toymaker dusts himself off, returns to his workshop, his mind scheming to better the design of his bead-phallus.

++++++++++

When Thorin returns to the Court, he takes his time. He is alone now. There is no need for other assistants to aid Thorin in the final leg of punishment for his errant nephew. With measured, powerful strides, he takes the steps up the thrones. He glances at Fili as he does so.

“Did you move your hands?” he asks, almost casually, making sure his tone is light.

“N-no,” Fili replies. It has been some time since the session ended, and he looks entirely ravaged beneath the pristine condition of his coat. His golden hair sticks to the sides of his face and neck in dishevelled tatters, and his eyes are wild in his face. He seems to be either holding his breath, or taking shallow breaths to avoid moving too much.

Thorin seats himself comfortable on his own throne. It is a large, grand structure, but what concerns Thorin now is the space of the seat, which is wide enough to sit two Dwarves. “Come here, Fili,” he says, still very calmly.

The little whimper that Fili makes under his breath does not escape Thorin. Nor do the pants in his breath as he gets up slowly to his feet and shuffles over to Thorin. This is so unlike Fili’s usual light-footed, easy grace. He ambles almost clumsily, his brows stitched together in effort, until he stands before Thorin.

“Take your coat off.”

Fili obeys with some difficulty, a fetching red now suffusing his cheeks.

“Undo your breeches.”

A pause. Then Fili unlaces his breeches and lets them slide down to puddle around his boots.  

“Come up here.”

The barest moan escapes his lips as Fili climbs up awkwardly onto the throne, until he straddles Thorin on the throne. His legs now spread, it is apparent that they are shaking with uncontrollable little tremors. His breathing is erratic now, and Thorin drinks in that sound like sweet mead.

“What hinders you so, Fili?” he asks in a low voice. One of his hands reaches around Fili and cups his buttocks. The flesh is supple, but Thorin does not linger, brushing over the mound until his fingers find that handle sticking out of his sister-son’s hole. “Is it this?” he hooks one finger into the handle and flicks it – just a _little_.

Fili jumps at that, and shudders wrack his entire frame. “ _Uncle_. I – that – ” he cannot continue, lowering his face to hide the blush staining his whole face and his neck.

His _neck_. Thorin raises his hand to the traitorous marks on Fili’s skin. “Who came to see you?”

Fili bites down worriedly on his lip. “No – one,” he says, hesitating.

He twists the handle, and the reaction is greater this time. Fili’s back arches and his eyes widen. Between his legs, his shirt is lifted now, by the very hard, angry-looking erection at his thighs. “No one?” Thorin presses.

The lad makes a small noise in his throat, but he shakes his head stubbornly. Well, it is relatively admirable, Thorin has to concede. Even wracked with both pleasure and torment like this, Fili isn’t willing to rat on his fellow accomplices. Perhaps such courage, though foolhardy at the same time, should be rewarded. He reached forward and curls two fingers around Fili’s erect shaft. Oh, the flesh is so hard and hot. Nonchalantly, Thorin begins to stroke his fingers up and down that column, feeling the ridged, throbbing surface beneath his touch.

“Uncle…” Fili sobs in his throat, trying so hard not to shove his hips up into that too-light caress.

“Would you stir up trouble the way again, the way you did today?” Thorin quickens his fingers now, and deepens the pressure just a bit.

“I…” Fili’s eyes flutter beneath his rakish, golden locks. “I will try not to,” he says most earnestly.

For the first time since he entered that Court, Thorin smiles. The boy is honest, somewhat sorry, but rebellious all the same, as with young Dwarves. He relents, and takes the boy’s cock fully in his hand. His other hand begins to work at the handle. Panting, Fili squirms and tries to shy away.

“Keep still…” Thorin soothes him, leaning forward to speak against the lad’s jaw. “Slowly, now…” He does not stop and continues to pull ever so carefully, petting and pumping that erect member in his palm at the same time. Between the escalating sensations, Fili can only moan piteously, until the largest bead emerges glistening from his hole.

The lad’s whole body quivers, and his legs almost buckle. “ _Oh_ ,” he says, the only word he is able to utter. When the next bead is worked free of his tender flesh, Fili’s hands fly to Thorin’s shoulders unconsciously, clinging to him. His skin is heated and dampened, and Thorin feels the flesh pulse hotly in his moving hand.

“Not yet,” he warns Fili, and smiles even more darkly as Fili nods desperately and tries to calm himself. He is so close that Thorin slows his strokes now and just cradles that straining cock, his thumb gently rubbing at that flushed cockhead. His other hand tightens on the handle and flexes it back and forth carefully, pulling out the next two beads smoothly.

“Uhnngh!” Fili whines, hands curling tightly into Thorin’s shoulders. His eyes are entirely glazed, and sweet little noises tumble freely from him.

The lad is ready to be released by his command. Thorin begins dragging his hand again, long, fleshy pulls of Fili’s shaft until it is leaking and drawing taut. “Come, Fili,” he growls, and his hand yanks all the beads free of Fili’s arse in a lewd, wet slide.

Near screaming, Fili throws his head back, and he comes in Thorin’s grip, spattering thick globs all over his own shirt, and his Uncle’s hand. Thighs slipping, Fili sinks onto his lap, letting Thorin stroke him until his quivers ease, and he whimpers quietly from the fondling of his sated member. Even after Thorin is sure Fili’s release is complete, and he removes his hands now from his sister-son’s body, the boy continues to slump against him, seeming to enjoy the languidness.

“Your punishment is over, Fili. Get up,” Thorin rumbles, bending his head to drop a gruff kiss on the lad’s forehead. He is already eyeing the lad’s state of undress and sticky mess with disapproval. He makes a mental note to teach the lad about post-coitus self-grooming. Fili’s gotten terribly spoilt from the services of all those willing mouths and hands around him.

“Yes, Uncle,” Fili sighs, stirring from his rest, and wearily lacing himself back up. “I am sorry for breaking the rules,” he sounds humbled and plaintive.

“Remember this,” Thorin raises the bead-phallus and taps it against Fili’s chest. It is still-warm from where it had nestled inside Fili’s passage. “Bofur does such good work, doesn’t he? He would gladly create more of such tools if you do not watch your actions in future.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Fili bows his head, trying not to look at the wetly-gleaming phallus, lest his composure cracks and he blushes like a little lass. In the most princely manner he can manage, he clambers off Thorin, and takes his leave. He scampers off quickly towards his own chamber, finally absolved of all wrongdoing.

Thorin watches him go, before turning his gaze on Fili’s throne again. A most handy structure for the punishment of errant princes.

Another time. Soon.

 

 

_finis_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this is the last of all this throne smut. I feel a bit filthy now... *blames the prompt*

**Author's Note:**

> The fill is not complete, I know. Give me several more days, hopefully less, and I will get the second part of the prompt covered! ^^ And oh, I know everyone in the fic worships Fili's arse. Uh. Yeah. That's how the world works in this fic.


End file.
